


Good Little Predacon

by InuShiek



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bondage, Collar, Established Relationship, M/M, NSFW, Oral, Size Difference, Slash, Sticky, leash, predacon!Smokescreen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InuShiek/pseuds/InuShiek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smokescreen has been temporarily turned into a predacon, and Knock Out knows just how to make the most of the situation.</p>
<p>(based on magical anon shenanigans on tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Little Predacon

**Author's Note:**

> [Smokescreen](http://ask-smokescreen.tumblr.com/) is a predacon for [a week](http://ask-smokescreen.tumblr.com/post/78384245653/i-bet-hed-get-you-a-nice-shiny-collar-and-a-leash-to), and [I started](http://ask-smokescreen.tumblr.com/post/78385174081/oh-youre-right-ko-couldnt-take-your-spike-right) sending [him sort-of-smut](http://ask-smokescreen.tumblr.com/post/78387452214/or-maybe-being-stuck-in-the-doorway-is-a-good-thing) to get him [flustered](http://ask-smokescreen.tumblr.com/post/78387452214/or-maybe-being-stuck-in-the-doorway-is-a-good-thing), and then decided to just go all-out and write a little fic.
> 
> worthy of note I think: Smokescreen is still Smokescreen here. Just like an actual predacon, he's intelligent and very much sentient and himself, he just can't speak and has a beast alt-mode.

"What’s the problem?" Knock Out asks. "You can still use your comm line while you’re transformed, can’t you?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"No buts. Transform. I’ll make it worth your while," the red mech taunts, dangling the leash in front of Smokescreen’s face.

Absentmindedly grabbing at the air with his hands, the temporary predacon decides to go along with it. He quickly transforms, and he’s surprised at how quickly and efficiently Knock Out has the collar secured around his neck.

Knock Out ties the leash around a leg of the nearby desk. “I don’t want this desk to budge, understood?” he orders, waiting for Smokescreen to nod. He then gives the mech a devious wink before he opens one of the desk drawers and removes some lengths of chain from it. He has to coax the first wing into folding tightly before he secures one of the chains around it, trapping it close to Smokescreen’s body.

Smokescreen quickly moves to comply with his other wing, and then Knock Out asks him to stand with his front feet close together. Trusting him, the blue mech does as told and he soon as the remaining chain looped and locked around his front feet- effectively hobbling him.

Nodding to himself once, Knock Out circles around to stand behind Smokescreen. “Are you going to open, or am I going to have to persuade you?” he asks, rubbing at the seams of the predacon’s panel.

Jolting at the sudden touch, the thought of just how the red mech could “persuade” him has Smokescreen releasing a quiet little screech and opening his panel.

"Good," Knock Out purrs, gathering the dripping lubricant on his digits. Impishly, he slides four fingers into Smokescreen’s valve without preamble, knowing that by sheer size that the predacon won’t have any trouble handling it, and his engine revs when Smokescreen’s lurches forward in surprise before he hurriedly rocks backwards.

Digits sufficiently coated, Knock Out withdraws. He doesn’t miss the quiet whine of loss from Smokescreen as he walks around to sit in front of the bound predacon. He carefully measures the distance in his mind, making sure that only the very tip of Smokescreen’s glossa will be able to his valve unless he pulls the desk across the floor against orders. He glances between Smokescreen’s legs to find lubricant from his valve slowly flowing down his spike and dripping to the floor beneath.

He tuts at the predacon before he opens his own panel and preses two of his digits in. Smokescreen’s lubricant makes the process much faster, and the blue mech whines, straining his head as far forward as he can without pulling the desk along with him. Knock Out works a third digit into himself, and the predacon’s glossa slides up the inside of one of his thighs.

Engine revving, the red mech works a fourth digit into his valve, twisting and pressing against the sides to further stretch himself. “Aren’t you a good little predacon,” Knock Out praises, teasingly condescending as he pats the side of Smokescreen’s face.

His chains rattle a bit as he shifts his body in embarrassment. Smokescreen dares to pull a little bit harder on the leash, praying the desk doesn’t budge, and he’s finally able to touch the rim of Knock Out’s valve with his glossa. 

"Clean these for me," Knock Out purrs.

Smokescreen blinks, realizing that the mech has pulled his digits out and left a very wet valve behind. Rumbling deep in his chest, the predacon  sets himself to licking Knock Out’s fingers clean of the mixed lubricant, but he never takes his gaze off that leaking valve.

Knock Out smirks when he notices where Smokescreen’s attention is focused. “Poor thing. You must be desperate,” he coos.

Smokescreen bucks his hips and bumps his spike against the floor, pulling a whine from him as he finishes licking Knock Out clean. He perks up as the red mech stands, and he nudges against Knock Out’s abdomen.

Smirk widening, Knock Out unties Smokescreen from the desk. “On your back,” he says, engine revving as the predacon scrambles to comply. “Good boy,” Knock Out praises, patting Smokescreen’s belly.

“ _Knock Out_..?” Smokescreen comms, watching the mech intently and trying not to squirm as his spike is jostled.

"Unless you’d like me to stop, I’d suggest that you remain quiet."

Smokescreen snaps his mouth shut even though he hadn’t spoken aloud.

"Good boy," Knock Out repeats, rubbing the predacon’s abdomen in reward again and "accidentally" brushing against the tip of his spike. Pulling on the leash, Knock Out gracefully swings his leg over Smokescreen and settles himself atop the predacon, "Watch, and don’t move."

It takes a lot of effort for Smokescreen not to wriggle and press his spike against Knock Out’s valve, but he manages to contain himself to an impatient whine.

Pleased, the red mech slides his valve along the underside of Smokescreen’s spike, and the predacon trembles beneath him. He reaches down to rub the tip with his thumb for a moment, enjoying how tense the blue predacon becomes, but then he decides to show some mercy.

Knock Out holds Smokescreen’s spike with one hand to guide it into his valve as he tightens his grip on the leash. He doesn’t want the temporary predacon to miss a moment.

Smokescreen’s chains rattle as he quivers. Knock Out’s mouth has fallen open as the red mech gasps and grinds himself down. Despite his preparation, Smokescreen’s spike is still too large to easily slip into Knock Out’s valve.

When it pops in, both mechs release pleasured sounds as Knock Out continues to slowly press downwards.

Curling his neck, Smokescreen bumps his muzzle against Knock Out’s neck. He never knew the red mech could be so  _tight_. He feels his spike hit the back of Knock Out’s valve and he stops, panting to help cool his frame off as he tugs on Smokescreen’s leash. The predacon shivers, fighting the urge to buck up into the mech.

"Primus, Smokescreen!" Knock Out gasps, circling his hips. He wishes he could get the last bit of Smokescreen’s spike in his valve, but he knows he’ll be unpleasantly sore tomorrow if he tries it. Smokescreen whines, and the red mech can both hear and see the desperation. "You’re being such a good, patient predacon for me," he praises, wrapping a hand around his own spike and squeezing as he impishly grinds down harder onto Smokescreen’s.

Smokescreen jerks in surprise, arching his back up off the floor before he remembers he’s supposed to be still. He quickly goes as limp as he can as he pants hot air over Knock Out’s frame.

"Careful," Knock Out warns with a smirk before he slowly lifts himself up off the large spike.

With an apologetic and somewhat desperate whine, Smokescreen flicks his glossa out to tease Knock Out’s spike in the hope that it will encourage the red mech to hurry.

"Good little predacon," Knock Out purrs, releasing his spike and grasping one of Smokescreen’s horns to hold his head close as he slides himself back down on the predacon’s twitching spike.


End file.
